


In the Beginning

by viciouswishes



Series: Monsters Inside [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-18
Updated: 2006-06-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciouswishes/pseuds/viciouswishes
Summary: Beta: dramaturgcaSetting: Post-"In the Dark" and Pre-"The Initiative."





	In the Beginning

Spike watched Angel's comings and goings. He saw the vampire save the helpless and make money while at it. Must've been a sweet gig, expect the whole saving people and drinking pig's blood. He stood in the shadows observing, ever since the great pounce had crushed the ring of Amarra. 

Biding his time, as Doyle died and Cordelia began to receive the visions from the PTB. Interesting twist. The PTB must have been bloody stupid to give the cheerleader the responsibility of the visions. Spike figured that he had the edge; sure, the cheerleader could see, but they were broken. And let's face it, that nancy-boy ex-Watcher wasn't much of a threat. 

There was nothing in Sunnydale to go back to. The Slayer'd kicked his ass, and Harmony was just a fuck. An okay fuck at that. Just when he'd thought he had an angle, another Slayer showed up. Apparently, she carried around more issues with Angel than he did. Spike laughed as she attempted to kill Angel. 

Then she gave in; she fucking gave in. Right then and there, she sat down the sword (the metaphorical one as she always preferred her fists and stake), turned herself in, and now sat in a jail cell. Someone with all that power willfully sat in a cell, surrounded by human guards with one fourth of her strength. But at least she wouldn't be coming after him. 

Spike kept out of the bars and the mainstream dump-holes that catered to the demon-traveling crowd. He slept in the back of his car. It was a little cramped, but he'd had worse. Of course, waking up on fire when a deranged homeless woman opened the door hadn't been the highlight of his life, but he'd woken up hungry. 

He'd amazed himself with his patience. But it was wearing thin. The jail-bound Slayer had the right idea, capture those close to Angel. Torture them. Bring them in. Break them down. Tonight he was going to meet his sire. 

Figures that Angel would be out saving the innocent tonight. Spike watched as Angel and Wesley fought a group of four vampires. 

Wesley smiled as his stake went through the final vampire that night. A small group of fledglings, nothing he and Angel couldn't take care of. "Looks like they'll be preying on the public no more," he said. 

"Yeah. And we still have time to catch that special on ancient Rome." Angel put his hand on Wesley's shoulder as they walked back to his car. 

"Well done." Spike appeared from around the corner. "Saving the world from evil and being an old man at the same time." He stopped far enough away that he knew he could make a break for it if needed. "What no hugs?" He smirked. 

"Wesley," Angel instructed, "get back." He turned toward Spike, frowning. "What do you want, Spike?" 

"Just to let you know that it's begun," Spike said. "I hope you're ready to play. It should be fun. Better than shopping at Piccadilly Circus. Though I doubt your little cheerleader would think so." He played his poker face. Cordelia was probably safe at home or on a date. Spike didn't give a fuck. 

"Cordelia," Wesley said. He started the engine. "Angel, if Spike's done something to her..." 

Angel gave in. He couldn't lose Cordelia; he'd just lost Doyle. "Spike," he growled, "next time I see you, you're going to be a little pile of dust." He hoped in the car as Wesley stepped on the gas. 

Spike stood there as they sped off. "Berks," he laughed. Going to save their precious Cordelia, who'd probably look at them like they'd all gone off their rockers. He slid into the front seat of the Desoto. 

An unconscious girl lay next to him. Her head bumped against the seat as he turned the corners, going to Wesley's apartment. She moaned as they arrived. "Finally waking up are we?" Spike said. "Just in time." 

He gave the girl some brandy trying to wake her up. He'd drained her pretty good, enough to keep her down, but not enough to kill her. At least not right away. She'd need a blood transfusion if she was going to live. More waiting. He lit another cigarette. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, but he couldn't eat the bait. 

Wesley pulled up on his motorcycle a few hours before sunrise. Spike waited until he was just inside the main lobby and pulled the girl out of the car as he exited. He waited until Wesley had his keys out. 

Letting the girl go, she ran down - wobbled down - the hallway. "Help me," she cried. "Monster." 

Wesley pulled a stake out of his jacket and put himself between the girl and whatever she feared was following her. "Vampire," he said. The girl had a bleeding neck wound. "Show yourself." 

"Oh Wesley." Spike came out from around the corner. He was in full vamp face and smiling. "Gonna run." 

"Get back," Wesley shouted as the girl let out a scream and fell over in front of his apartment door. She must have been in shock with blood loss and fear. Wesley tossed her his keys. "Get inside," he ordered. 

Spike walked toward Wesley, his hands on his belt. "Worried," he teased. Wesley lunged at Spike, who knocked the stake easily out of his hand. "That the best you have. Did Angel teach you the run and hide method of fighting? Was always his favorite." 

"No." Wesley moved to punch Spike. Again, he failed as Spike blocked the blow and pushed Wesley against the wall. 

"Pity," Spike said. "I thought you'd be a bit stronger." He turned Wesley around and wrapped a tight rope over his hands. He then took out a gag and placed it over Wesley's mouth. "I wouldn't want anyone to hear you scream." Spike dragged Wesley down the stairwell. With any luck, they wouldn't run into anyone. 

Wesley struggled against Spike. He felt relieved for the girl, but didn't want to think about his immediate future. 

"Can't have you know where we're going." Spike punched Wesley, knocking him out cold. Picking Wesley up, Spike pushed him into the back of the Desoto. There wasn't time to go back for the leftovers that still lay bleeding to death in the hallway. 

Spike started up the car and sped off. He'd chased off some junkies from a vacant apartment yesterday. The place was dank but rat free and cleaner than the sewers. There was also a close exit to go underground. 

***** 

Wesley moaned from where Spike had set him on the bed. He felt the cold hard touch of handcuffs as Spike laced them through Wesley's hands and around the headboard. The gag was removed. His head throbbed as he opened his eyes. 

"Thought you were going to sleep the whole day through," Spike said. He sat down on the bed. Wesley jerked away. "Now come on. You don't think that I'd eat my guests." He paused. "Okay, I would. But I need you." Spike lifted a bottle of water to Wesley's lips. 

Wesley drank and coughed as the water filled his mouth. Compared to the torture he'd received from Faith, this was a vacation. 

"If you receive," Spike vamped, "you have to give. Wouldn't want Angel to find me out on a hunt." He sunk his fangs into Wesley's neck, drinking from Wesley. Wesley gasped in pain at the sharpness of the fangs and the pull of blood. Spike made sure that he wasn't near the jugular; he didn't want to kill his hostage - yet. Pulling back, Spike licked his lips. "Did anyone ever tell you how good you taste?" 

Wesley felt weakened by the drain. He could barely keep his eyes open before. A fear of dying now lay in his path, and the handcuffs chaffed his wrists. He closed his eyes and drifted back into sleep. 

***** 

"Cordelia, have you seen Wes?" Angel asked, poking his head out of his office. He needed Wesley to go pick up sage up from an herbal shop, which, of course, was only open during the day. "He hasn't called or anything." 

"Nope." Cordelia typed away at her computer. She paused. "Wait. Since when does Wesley take the day off? Especially a day off without calling in?" 

"When there's Spike roaming the streets." Angel rushed over to Cordelia's desk and dialed the number to Wesley's apartment. The phone rang, but only the answering machine picked up. "Spike," Angel growled as he slammed down the receiver. 

"You think." Cordelia frowned. "Angel, we'll find him. You've said it yourself that Spike's incompetent with long-term plans; he'll slip up, and then you can stake him and save Wesley." 

"And you have to go home." Angel picked up her coat and purse. "You'll be much safer where he can't enter. Come on." He handed them to her. "We'll take the sewers. Plus I might be able to beat up someone on the way for information about Spike." 

"Umm, Angel," Cordelia interrupted him and stopped him her tracks. "Why are we taking the sewers when it's sunny outside? I mean, you have to and all, but I don't. Last time I checked, Spike was a vampire who couldn't go outside." 

"But Spike's the only vampire that I know who's stupid enough to risk his life out in the sunshine." Angel grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the sewer entrance. "When Dru wanted something to eat in the daytime, he'd throw a blanket over himself and run across the street. I'd suspect that he'd drive up, grab you, and put out the fire on his hand later." 

"Wow. He has some guts," Cordelia said as she lowered herself into the sewer entrance. "I mean, I've never seen you run out in the daylight..." Angel glared at her. "Except that one time with the pedophile vampire. And you didn't have a blanket. Go you." 

Angel gave her a half smile as they navigated the sewers. He watched her crinkled her nose at the smell. "Don't underestimate Spike," Angel warned. "He may be an idiot, but he's still a vampire." 

"Don't give me that lecture because I've encountered Spike before," Cordelia protested. "Hello, I grew up in Sunnydale. If you remember, we had our very own Hellmouth, and Spike paid us a little visit to revive Drusilla." A squeak of a rat echoed through the tunnels, and she cowered by Angel, grabbing hold of his arm. 

"Great," Angel sighed. She may be human, but she was cutting off the circulation on his arm. "You're more scared of a rat, then Spike." 

"That's not fair, Angel. You know that I only want to help find Wes." _And be strong for you because I know you'll find him_ , she added to herself. "I don't possibly see how sitting locked like a prisoner in my own home will help." She started to climb the stairs that Angel had motioned to. "You're in luck," she shouted, once she was at the top. "No direct sunlight here." 

They exited the sewers near her building. As long as she stayed in her home, Angel didn't have to worry about her. She'd be safe. "Cordelia," he said as she stepped into her home, "promise me that you'll stay here. If you need food, call me." 

"Yeah," she snorted. "Like you can even work your cell phone." 

"I can try." Angel sighed. "Just please, stay here. For both my own sake and Wesley's." 

"Fine," she gave in. "But you owe me and might have to make a grocery store trip for me. Or I could use the online grocery deliverers." She smiled and hugged Angel. "Find him for me. Find him for both of us." 

Angel left as soon as Cordelia bolted the door behind her. Hopefully, she would stay put. Now he had legwork to do. 

Angel entered Wesley's apartment building. He could smell the blood on the walls. It was fresh, probably early this morning. But it wasn't Wesley's. An old woman and her dog walked down the hall. "Excuse me, ma'am," Angel stopped her. 

"Yes," she responded, smiling at him. 

"Can you tell me what happened here," Angel said. "I work for a detective agency, and we're looking into a possible kidnapping, and anything that you can tell me could be helpful." He put his best face forward - friendly and caring. 

"Don't tell me it's that nice young man who lives there." She pointed toward Wesley's apartment door. "There was a ruckus a few hours before sunrise. I woke up to it, as I don't sleep as well as I used to. There was a girl with a nasty gash on her throat, who'd lost a lot of blood. But I did find these." She took out of her pocket a set of keys. Wesley's keys. "Are you a friend?" 

"Yes," Angel admitted. "And I'm worried about him. Do you mind if I take the keys?" The woman smiled and nodded. "Thanks," Angel said as she walked away with her dog in tow. 

Everything was neat and tidy inside Wesley's apartment. From the doorway, Angel could tell that Wesley had never made it inside. Clearly, Spike had jumped Wesley in the hall and dragged him off from there. For once in his life, Angel wished that Spike was someone whose mysteries could be solved with the thick books on Wesley's shelf. But no such luck. This would be a hunt. 

He locked the door tight and followed the scent of blood. And the slight smell of Spike. However, once outside the trail went cold. A little of Wesley's blood peppered the sidewalk. Most likely, Spike was driving around L.A. in that beat-up Desoto. 

Going back into the sewers, he went to the butcher's shop. He needed blood, and it was a good place to beat up someone for information. Beating up someone would make him feel better. 

***** 

Spike flipped through the channels of the barely working television. He smacked the side of it with his hand to clear up the static. "Work," he yelled, hitting it again. Lighting up another cigarette, he felt his hunger growing. He couldn't risk going out to get food. Angel would beat up some snitch, who would well...snitch on him. Then there'd be the royal ass kicking. Not what he needed. 

Wesley had been coming in and out of consciousness for the past three days. Moaning and groaning. The cuffs cut his wrists even deeper, and the smell of his blood tormented Spike. He attempted to make them cushier, but that didn't work. Finally, he used the rope again, and he'd taken another little drink from Wesley. Wesley was too weak to run out, and with Spike's hunger pains, it wasn't as if sleep was an option. 

"Spike," Wesley whispered. "Water." He looked ghastly pale, a shadow of the man who'd attempted to fight against Spike in the hallway. 

_Nothing worse than having to feed your bait, when you should be drinking his blood._ Spike removed himself from the chair and gave Wesley more water. And watched as the man drank until he was sleepy again. "Must've drained more than I thought," Spike said. 

Spike sat back down on the chair. Perhaps he'd take a little snooze. It wasn't like Angel would find them anytime soon. His head was too thick. Spike imaged the great hero of the people walking up and demanding that he release Wesley. Angel would probably say something bored rigid like, 'Unhand him, Spike.' Then they'd fight, and Angel would get his poncey arse kicked. Once bleeding and almost dead, a stake through his old sire's heart would do the final trick. Spike smiled as his hunger subsided at the image of dusting Angel and drifted off into sleep. 

_He sat on a dark beach. Rio. Drusilla behind him. She'd held a bright pack of tarot cards in her hand. The waves burnt his feet as they flowed up on the shore._

_"Playing with death," Drusilla spoke. "Daddy's going to be mad when you harm the hairs on his head." A starfish she held in her hand. "What shall we name it? Wesley, I think. It's dying after all."_

_Angelus stood in front of him. "The water doesn't burn me, boy." He smiled, his fangs glowing in the moonlight. "Everything you touch falls apart." He picked a flower of its petals. "Look at Dru. You could never satisfy her the way I could."_

_Buffy appeared behind him, dressed in a cheerleaders uniform. "Angelus pleases us all." She turned his face and kissed him._

_"Not in the mood to watch you two shag." Spike stood up, shaking the sand off his clothing, from in between his toes. Drusilla frowned at him as he walked into the bushes ending up in the Summer's living room._

_"Spike," Joyce said, handing him a cup of tea. "I hope you take sugar and milk." Fluffing the pillows on the couch, she arranged them around her like a high queen. "Your mother stopped by yesterday. We had a charming talk. I read some of your poetry - a little immature, but you use some great words." She paused. "Effulgent. It rolls off the tongue. Lovely."_

_Spike sipped the lukewarm tea. "You know, I always liked you." He settled down in the lawn chair across from her. "What should I do?"_

_"Stop being the Slayer," Joyce said. "I keep telling Buffy this, but children, they don't listen. Death is your business, I know. But for once, can't you create like..."_

_The front door fell in on the floor, glass spilling everywhere. "Get away from her," Buffy commanded with a stake in her hand, no longer in her uniform._

_"But honey," Joyce protested. "We're just having tea. Spike would never harm me."_

_"He's a vampire, and death is my gift to give him." She walked toward him. Her legs like that of a toy soldier._

_"We were just discussing how he's going to change." Joyce smiled. "His son's coming. You should be happy. But I guess that Angel has you brainwashed again. He's cheating on you; I saw him."_

_Buffy lunged at Spike; stake pointed toward his heart. He fell through the floor as she missed his heart._

_"I'm so happy, Spike," Angel said, hitting him on the back and handing him a cigar. "I'm going to be father." He grinned. "How does the nursery look?"_

_"Err...fine." Spike looked around the room - crib and baby things. The smoke smelled like roses._

_"Honey." Darla stood at the door, her hand on her belly - her very pregnant belly. "Don't smoke around the baby. You're going to kill it. Spike's destroying our baby."_

_"Sorry sweetie." Angel kissed Darla on the forehead and touched her stomach. "The little guy's kicking." They cooed at each other. "Aren't you excited, Uncle Spike?" Angel winked at him._

_"Darla." Giles ran in - exhausted and sweaty. He wore doctor's clothing. "Your pregnancy is so fascinating." He placed a stethoscope on her stomach. "Two vampires mating and producing offspring. Who knows what it'll grow up to be?"_

_"Don't worry, I'll teach it to hunt," Darla said. "It'll never go hungry."_

_"Me and my son. We'll fight the righteous fight." Angel paused. "A champion begetting a champion. Life's great." He sighed. "And Uncle Spike can teach him what not to do."_

_They all laughed - everyone except Spike. He pushed passed them and out the door. He was back on the beach and only Drusilla sat in the sand. "Come here," she beckoned. "Mommy can take care of that." She pointed at his crotch._

_He felt himself; he was hard. Longing to be satisfied. He growled, crawling on top of her. His trousers had disappeared, and her dress pulled up. She never wore underwear after the 19th century. His cock pushed into her._

_"Spike, you know what I want. You know what he wants," Drusilla moaned. Her body rippling at his touch and hips buckling against his. His face vamped and his fangs pierced her neck as he drank from her._

When he awoke, hunger filled his body and blood saturated the air. "Fuck," Spike yelled when he realized that he'd slept through the night. The sewer tunnels were too crowded during the daytime to risk going out for food. 

"Rise and shine, Wesley." Spike stood over Wesley's body, gripping him by the shoulders. "I'm a little hungry." He felt Wesley gasp as his fangs penetrated Wesley's skin. 

The tug of Wesley's sweet blood filled his body. The heat sank inside, burying itself through body and time. Spike thought he'd never tasted anything so delicious. Virgins and Slayers' blood were overrated compared to what poured into his mouth from Wesley. The soft skin broke so easily, so allowable. Spike was enthralled, entranced. 

Wesley felt on the verge of passing out again. It had been a theme this week. Spike drank him, took his life source. He panted loudly, leaning against Spike. He'd lost track of time. Perhaps three days. Anything to keep his mind away from the pain. Spike had been drinking his blood forever. 

Hunger pains seemed satisfied for now, and Spike drew back. Wesley's breathing was too shallow. In the past, he'd kept prisoners alive for months. Months of drinking, but none tasted like this - intoxicating. Spike listened to Wesley's heart as it slowed down. He'd drunk too much. 

"Come on, Wesley," Spike said, shaking the man. Wesley mumbled against Spike's movements. He'd given up like the baby rabbits he'd tried to save from his cat's mouth as a child. "You can't do this. It's not part of the plan," Spike insisted. He let Wesley's body drop to the bed; he was dying. 

"Not supposed to fucking do this." Spike's fist hit the wall, and he started to pace. "Can't do this. Can't happen. Dead hostages don't work," he mumbled. "Gotta break Angel. He'll get over this, just like the other." He looked at Wesley whose breathing was becoming shallower. "Fuck!" Shouting, as he kicked the wall. He'd have to do something soon. 

A wicked smile crossed his face as it came to him. "Going to tear him in two." Spike grabbed an almost empty bottle of whiskey. "Here's to stupidity." He tossed it back, finishing it. Slamming the bottle against the nightstand, he broke it, then used the shards to cut his own arm. 

Holding his arm over Wesley's mouth, blood dripped inside. Angel was surely going to stake him. Spike observed the change - the elongation of teeth and the changing of his face while the human body died. The soul moved out and was replaced by the demon. Wesley now attached himself to Spike's arm, drinking essentially his own fluids. 

Releasing when he was full, Wesley convulsed on the bed. Soiling the sheets. He was dead, but would rise that night. In the meantime, Spike needed to replenish himself. He'd given Wesley everything. 

***** 

Spike brought Wesley a fresh victim that night - a young man. Strong and virile. He'd also stolen some clean clothing. No one wanted to wear his soiled death clothing. 

He watched as Wesley's new yellow eyes flickered open. "Thought you'd never get up," Spike said. "The night's almost over." He watched as Wesley's hand explored his own forehead. "Brought you something to eat." He pushed the young man toward Wesley, and smiled when Wesley's fangs found the jugular - sucking the young man dry. "You're a natural." 

When Wesley finished, he turned his attention toward Spike. "You," he growled. Moving closer to Spike, he grabbed Spike's throat and pushed him against the wall. 

Spike laughed. "Welcome back," he grinned. "So I figure, we go surprise Angel. You had enough training as a human that we shouldn't have to worry about you getting staked." 

"Angel was right," Wesley said. He released his grip on Spike. "You're a moron." 

"Hey," Spike protested, "I'm the one who sired you. I could've let you bloody die." This wasn't what he counted on. Human Wesley had worshipped Angel. Of course, Angel was always on top. 

Wesley punched Spike. Blood leaked down Spike's face as Wesley shoved him face first against the back of the chair. Wesley held him down with one hand and groped Spike's crotch with the other. "You know the difference between me and you?" Wesley asked. He felt Spike hardening under his touch. "You've always been someone's boy. And now, you're mine." 

Spike began to ach at the word 'Mine.' Not since Angelus had any man dominated him. Not since Angelus had any man topped him. The idea excited him; a new world opened up in front of him. He knew that on his own, his bigger schemes fell apart. And he's missed having a partner. Harmony was...a stupid bint. But Wesley was cold, hard, and dominant. "Not yours," Spike snarled and kicked Wesley in the gut. "I fucking made you, and you're going to remember that." 

Wesley stumbled back against the blow. "And I bet you had that planned out." He threw Spike against the wall, shaking the nearby windowpane. "You made me on accident. Pure whim. No reason other than you couldn't have me dead. But where you failed is that I am dead. You did this." 

Spike slowly stood up; Wesley looked defeated. "And you could have done better? Destroyed my ole' sire? Because it sure as hell going to burn him up to see you. Figured if I killed you, he'd just replace you like he did that Doyle bloke." He laughed as he wiped the blood from his mouth. Despite his inner longings, Wesley wasn't going to win. Not today. 

Wesley picked up the broken end of the bottle and smashed it against Spike's face. "Not a replacement," he answered no emotion in his voice, "I could've done much better, and I will. But first, you have to behave." He yanked Spike's hair. "Mine." 

"Bollocks." Spike's hands reached for Wesley's throat. Sometimes new vampires forgot that they didn't have to breathe and would pass out. Hell, even after centuries, Drusilla forgot. 

Wesley only pulled harder on his hair. "Don't have to breathe, git." They both simultaneously released their grips and staggered back from each other. "You know you want it. Want me to lead you around. You miss it because you miss him." 

"And you think you're better than him." Spike licked the blood off his lower lip. "But you love him too." 

"Only remnants of my human self," Wesley answered. He walked closer to Spike - slowly; they weren't going to get anywhere fighting each other. "But you - you always need someone to show you the ropes. I know Angel better than you; can predict him better than you. And I know what will hurt him." 

Wesley now stood so close to Spike that if they were human, he would have felt Wesley's breath on his face. "You need me," Spike said. He lifted his scarred eyebrow as if his body betrayed him into making a question out of his statement. His tongue ran across Wesley's stubbly jaw line as a sign of surrender. He still tasted so human. 

"For now." Wesley's hand found Spike's crotch again. "Though you'll have to compromise." 

Wesley looked almost sweet in his human face. "But I take it you're not?" Spike observed. His blood was traveling somewhere that wasn't his brain. 

Wesley moved around behind Spike and pushed him forward, against the chair - where their argument had started. "Mine," he growled in Spike's ear, his hand clamping down even harder. The only touch he allowed Spike. 

Spike felt himself cave. He always did the things that he promised himself he wouldn't. He didn't expect Wesley to be like this - prevailing and alluring. "Yours," Spike smirked, giving a verbal signal in hope that something more would happen. 

Wesley had removed his hand from Spike's crotch to take off his clothing. "Strip," he ordered Spike, "but don't turn around." 

Spike's cock twitched in anticipation of what Wesley would do next. He undressed himself and waited. Groaning, as he felt Wesley's hand cup his arse. 

Wesley gave Spike a hard smack across his arse. "What do you think Angel's going to do once he finds out what you did?" Wesley demanded. He nibbled on Spike's neck, scraping his fangs as he moved lower. 

"Beat me. Then stake me. Possibly some torture in between," Spike answered. Wesley's tongue licked the blood from the little scrapes on his neck. His cool hand rewarded Spike by moving up and down the shaft of his cock. 

Wesley's erection rubbed against Spike. His free hand grabbed Spike's hair pulling him back. "Lubricant?" Spike pointed to shelf in the mini kitchen - cooking oil. "Stay." Wesley brought back the bottle with him and spread it over his hand. His finger entered Spike, stretching him - teasing his hole. "Do you want me?" 

"Yes," Spike gasped as Wesley stuck another finger inside of him. "Want you to fuck me. Bury yourself deep inside of me." Wesley's hand moved faster over Spike's cock, slick with pre-come. As Wesley removed his fingers, Spike's hips fell toward the chair, and he groaned, "Want you." 

Wesley spread Spike apart and entered him in one quick thrust. The fabric on the chair ripped, as Spike clutched down on it. "So tight," Wesley moaned. He moved fast - in and out. Wesley smelt blood as Spike's skin tore; it'd been a long time since he'd bottomed. 

Spike squirmed in pain and pleasure. His body was on fire - burning. Biting his lip, he drew blood. His mouth filled with it, as he groaned while Wesley's cock pushed against his prostate. "Fuck," Spike growled. 

Wesley's nips became bites. Spike's blood intoxicated him - filling him, wonderfully smooth. Sinking his fangs into Spike's lower neck, he began to feed. He thrust faster and felt Spike whimper and push back against him. 

Spike's body trembled with the impact of Wesley's fangs. "Feels so good. More." Sweat trickled down his forehead. "Going to come." 

Wesley drank deeper. His cock hard and steady, as was his hand. Nothing mattered beyond this. He'd deal with Angel later, now that he had an eternity. A stifled moan escaped his lips through his teeth and Spike's flesh. 

Spike shouted gibberish as he came. His hips buckled against Wesley's cock - body spasming and tightening. He felt lightheaded from the release and from the blood being drained by Wesley. Wesley released Spike's cock and began to move more fiercely in and out of Spike. Spike whimpered as the thought that Wesley might fuck him to death passed through his mind - an interesting revenge. 

Wesley felt Spike's body slacken under him and removed his fangs. "Going to stay with me," he growled. "Mine." His cock ached and pounded into Spike. He came with another growl, quickly pulling out of Spike after his orgasm was finished. They collapsed on the floor; Spike drained and Wesley enraptured with his new unlife. 

As the sun went down, Wesley awoke. He wanted to feed then enact his plans against Angel. They'd come to him like dreams and unspoken songs. Turning on the shower, he washed himself off. None of that bad stereotype of the dirty primitive vampire. Luckily, the water came out clear. 

The bathroom door creaked open. Spike stood on the other side of the shower curtain. He joined Wesley, who gave him a dirty look. Moving closer, he wrapped his arms around Wesley and kissed him. The water ran down around them - between them. 

Wesley didn't respond to the kiss. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked. 

Spike froze and then moved back. He tested his limits; Angelus would've thrown him out, while Wesley ignored him. Which was worse, he didn't know. "Sorry," Spike said. He soaped himself up. "I just figured..." 

"You figured that you could be lovey dovey." Wesley rinsed himself off. "Don't expect that." He turned the water off. He could only find one cleanish towel. Spike would have to wait. Instinctively, Wesley went to look at himself in the mirror after handing Spike the towel. 

"It's strange at first." Spike put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "You get used to it." 

Wesley touched his face, then touched the mirror where it would've reflected. Spike's arm slinked up him again. Only this time, he allowed it. The mirror was empty; he broke it with his fist. Anger - calm and cool. Blood dripped. 

Spike took Wesley's hand and picked the shards out. Then he cleaned the blood off with his tongue. 

Watching Spike, Wesley stood still. Then he moved closer to kiss Spike. Not fierce, but soft. Needy, yet fearless. His tongue enraptured Spike's. 

Wesley was still warm from the feeding, from being human. Spike had longed for this kiss. The intangible that Wesley had refused to give. Wesley had drunk from, bit him, fucked him hard, but refused this with all its tenderness and humanity. "Yours," Spike groaned. 

Wesley moved away. "It's time to find Cordelia." 

***** 

Spike kept to his instructions. He was to stay back until Wesley attacked her. "Going to keep me in the dark?" Spike asked. A cigarette dangled from his mouth. "I'm the one who started this." 

"And Angel would be staking you by now," Wesley hissed. He yanked the cigarette from Spike's mouth. "You really shouldn't be smoking these." 

"And why not?" Spike was irritated. "It's not like we're going to up and die from lung cancer." 

"It's disgusting; we're not animals like they'd like to think." Wesley walked away from Spike toward Cordelia's door. Hopefully Phantom Dennis wouldn't sense his change. "Cordelia." He knocked on the door. "It's Wesley." 

He could hear her unlocking the door. "Wesley!" She wrapped her arms around him. "Where were you? Does Angel know? Are you okay? Did Spike hurt you?" 

"I'll be okay, Cordelia," Wesley answered, smiling at her. "I've seen Angel already, and I'm sure he is staking Spike as we speak. Surprisingly, Spike's not big on the torture." 

"Oh Wesley." She embraced him again. "We were so worried. Angel made me stay here the entire time. I even had to send him to get tampons. You'd think after 240-something years, he could deal with that fact that women have periods. Wesley," she moved back from him, "why aren't you more beat up." She placed her hand over her mouth. "He didn't..." 

As she turned to run back into her flat, Wesley hit her and she crumpled on the floor. She wanted to move, against the pain, away from demon that wore Wesley's face. He loomed over her, his face vamped and joined by Spike. "Call Angel," Cordelia shouted to Dennis. 

Wesley slapped her. "I wouldn't do that." He held her hands together, keeping her from struggling against him. 

Spike wrapped her hands and feet with rope. "I'd hold very still if I were you," Spike instructed her. "Moving might hurt you more." 

Wesley held out a knife in front of her. "It'd be too easy to kill you." Spike moved to hold her head still; her body pressed against his. "Now don't blink," Wesley said. His knife came straight toward her eye. 

Spike turned his head away from the scene. This kind of torture was never his style. This teasing of death. Cordelia's screams filled the air as Wesley's knife scraped over her eyes. Perfect scraping them, to scar them. Blood and tears ran down her cheeks. 

Spike smelt her blood and fear. It seemed to last forever and only seconds. He almost felt sorry for her, almost snapped her neck at what a pathetic being Wesley left her as. 

Wesley removed the knife after he was done. He pushed her back into her home. Angel would be here; she would be his terror. Wesley slammed her door. 

***** 

Angel ran into the emergency room with Cordelia in his arms. She was half-conscious from fright and shock. "Doctor," he yelled at the nurses. "I need a doctor." 

A nurse calmed him down, as Cordelia was taken from him and loaded on a gurney. "Sir," the nurse held his arm, "you need to stay here. She's in good hands." 

Angel took a seat in the corner. He put his hands to his face; they smelt of Cordelia, of her blood, sweat, and tears. It had to be Spike. He must have hired out. That wasn't his style, it was more his, more Angelus'. 

He bit down on a styrofoam cup filled with coffee that the nurse had handed him. The clock ticked on the wall as time passed - minutes then hours. "Angel?" a doctor asked. 

"Can I see her?" Angel stood up. "Where is she? Is she going to be alright?" 

"She's this way." The doctor led him down the hallway. "There's been extensive damage to the surface of her eyes. This was done with a purposeful precision. The police will be asking questions." The doctor paused and sighed. "She'll probably be blind for the rest of her life." 

"When can I take her home?" Angel stopped right outside of her room. 

"We wanted to keep her for a few days to watch for signs of infection or restoration." The doctor handed Angel a list of medications that she was to take. 

Angel took a deep unnecessary breath before entering the room. She sat up in the bed, covered in white, dressed in hospital clothing. "Cordelia," he said as he approached her. He took her hand, and she turned her head. Both her eyes were covered with white gauze pads. 

"Angel," she whimpered. She couldn't cry; it stung too much. "It was Spike. No, it wasn't just him. He didn't do this. Wesley. Spike turned him. Wesley did this." The tears had started. 

Angel held her arm and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "We'll find them. And I'll take care of this. I'm not making the mistake of letting Spike go again." 

Her sobs ceased as she took a deep breath and hugged him. "The doctors won't tell me. But I'm never going to regain my vision again, am I?" 

Angel was glad that she couldn't see his face. He wanted to crawl inside himself and hibernate, after killing Wesley and Spike. "No," he whispered and bit back his own tears. _Be strong for her_. "I'm sorry." 

"What about the visions?" She pulled him in front of her; her bandages faced directly in front of his eyes. 

"Doesn't matter. If you don't get them, we'll deal." His hands stroked her hair. "And if you do, we'll continue. I'm going to see the Oracles. But I'll fix this with or without their help." 

***** 

"Why are you here, warrior?" the female oracle asked. "You are concerned about the vessel; but why do you bother us?" 

"He believes that we will fix her," said the male. "But there is nothing to fix. You should not be here." 

"What about Wesley?" Angel asked, growing tired already of their answers. He looked at his watch. 

"Time has no meaning here," the female said. "What's done to Wesley can't be undone." 

"His soul has gone to a resting place," the male added. "He is content. And we have already changed the past for you once." 

"All I need is one of them. Intact." Angel felt his temper boiling below the surface. His last sentence tasted foul in his mouth. Was he actually bargaining for the reality to be altered for one of them? How could a souled Wesley deal with what he'd done to Cordelia? 

"They will not be here forever." The female moved to leave. "One is obsessed with you and the other, the Slayer." 

"Goodbye warrior," the male said. 

Angel found himself where he had started. He took his ringing cell phone out of his pocket. "Hello...Where are they?...The Oracles were cryptic and really not helpful. I'm sorry...Okay, I'll see you soon." 

Cordelia had had a vision. Spike and Wesley were making themselves known. 

***** 

"Nothing like a massacre to begin the night," Spike said, kicking a dead body away from him. "So now we're just waiting?" He opened a beer and took a swig. Frat parties were good for two things - lots of young blood and plenty of beer. 

"This should've attracted the attention of the PTB." Wesley heard a slight whimper from the woman lying at his feet. He reached down and snapped her neck. "He'll be disappointed that he has no one to save." 

"And he's already lost you." Spike smiled. "Now you're all mine." He took another drink. 

"Didn't we clear that up last night." Wesley looked at the clock; he owned every second that it ticked. 

"Always stoic, aren't you?" Spike sat down. "Maybe your precious PTB didn't receive our message." 

"It came in loud and clear." Angel stood at the doorway, sword in his hand. "And neither of you are leaving here unless you're carried out by the breeze." 

"I'm touched Angel." Spike placed his hand over his chest. "That you and the PTB care so much about two little vamps." He pointed toward Wesley with his beer bottle. "Look what I made you? You can keep him forever." 

"I've let you live too long." Angel walked down the stairwell into the basement. His eyes searched the room for live people to save then stopped and stared at Wesley. 

"You always did have a soft spot for me, you piddly souled vampire." Spike pushed himself off the chair like a child off a swing. "I've created him from my own flesh for you." 

"Shut up, Spike," Angel growled. "You've always talked too much." 

"I do agree," Wesley spoke for the first time. He hadn't given Angel the realization. Angel surely smelt that he was no longer human, but hadn't seen it. It was one thing to know, but another to see. "Enough talking." 

"Wesley." Angel paused in his step - staring at Wesley again. He didn't move. "We can fix this." 

Spike took advantage of this lapse and swung a broken chair leg at Angel, hitting his upper back. Angel tumbled forward, dropping his sword, and received yet another blow from Spike. By the third, he grabbed the piece of wood from Spike. Holding it still in the air, he pushed forward, sending the leg toward Spike's gut. 

Picking up Angel's fallen sword, Wesley sliced Angel's back - mostly coat, but some flesh. Angel cried out and fell to his knees in pain. Spike gained his footing and lunged himself at Angel. As Spike landed, Angel pushed him toward Wesley, knocking them both to the floor. 

Standing up, Angel took a stake out of the interlining of his jacket. "Going to make this quick for the both of you," he said. Spike looked like he was ready to run. 

"Not likely." Wesley pulled a gun out of his jacket and shot the stake out of Angel's hand. 

Blood ran down his hand, bullets like beestings. Angel vamped through the pain and anger, only to be matched by Wesley. He froze again. 

Wesley moved forward and shot Angel's shoulder. "I wouldn't stand still too long if I were you." He made a matching hole in the other shoulder before Angel shuddered and slumped down. Wesley smiled, showing off his fangs; the message was finally hitting home. 

Spike chucked a beer bottle at Angel's head. Awaking from the stillness, Angel jerked away in time to avoid it. 

"Stupid git," Wesley snarled at Spike as another bullet made contact with Angel's flesh. Angel attempted to gather his strength to stand and fight, but Wesley wouldn't let up. "This is only the beginning, Angel," he said as he hit Angel with the butt of his gun. 

Angel tasted his own blood in his mouth. "Just get it over with." 

Spike stood behind him with a stake. "What do you say, Wesley?" he asked. His stake trailing down Angel's back suggestively. 

"Letting him boss you around already." Angel coughed. "You always did need someone to give you permission to act. Someone to give you orders. Someone to fuck you." 

Snarling at Angel, Spike pulled back the stake and pushed it forward to send it through Angel's heart. Wesley's hand gripped his arm, preventing it. "I get it," Spike said, pushing Wesley away. "Trying to fool me into staking you. Not going to happen. Big poofs get the royal treatment." Spike bound Angel's hands together and held him still. 

"Did you enjoy the present that I left you?" Wesley asked. "It surprises me that you actually thought you were going to win today. But then you always do try to save the day, no matter how impossible that may be." His face became that of a human again. Pulling Spike closer, Angel trapped on the floor between them, Wesley kissed him. "How'd you like a convertible?" He picked up Angel's keys off the floor. 

"Sounds like fun," Spike answered, licking his lips at the memory of Wesley's. "The wind blowing through my hair. Guess that's why you use so much hairgel." He kicked Angel's lower back. 

"Time to take Angel for a little ride." Wesley turned and walked up the stairs and out the door, Spike following him and dragging Angel. He started the convertible and pealed out of the parking lot as soon as Spike slammed the door and jumped in the back. 

Spike placed his arm around Angel's neck. He leaned forward. "The night's truly our time, isn't it? You know, you haven't said much since Wesley kicked your arse." 

"There's nothing to say," Angel answered. He peered into the rearview mirror watching Spike as they sped down the freeway. The desert came closer as they veered off toward it. The scenery blended together as they left civilization behind. 

"Ready," Wesley asked. He didn't move, only pushed down the gas petal further. 

Spike smirked. "Always." Balancing himself by holding on to the seat, he jumped in between Wesley and Angel. He cut away the ropes from Angel's hands and opened the door. "See you later." He used his feet to shove Angel out the door. 

Angel rolled down the pavement like a rag doll, limbs failing about. He heard the tires squealing as Wesley made a U-turn and came back his way. Luckily, he was rolling fast enough to get off the road before Wesley came around. Being hit by a speeding car, his speeding car, was not something that he needed right now. 

He lay in the dirt of the desert. The bullet wounds had finally stopped bleeding, just making them more painful to remove later. He'd still have plenty of time to walk back to L.A. before the sun came up; Wesley wanted him wounded, but not dead. Not yet. The sounds of the convertible's motor faded, only to be replaced by the quiet hum of crickets. 

His eyes watched the stars, dreaming as a child that he was near them instead of here. His friends - his only friends - one undead and the other maimed. He couldn't do this, but he had no choice. Tears sprung from the corners of his eyes as he thought about what he'd lost. When did he ever have a choice. 

***** 

Wesley drove them back to his apartment. Why he wanted to be back where everything reminded him of his human life puzzled Spike. But it would be clean and possibly have some supplies that Wesley desired to keep. Angel wouldn't be back tonight. 

Spike picked the lock and let them both in. If anyone saw them, they didn't think twice. "Too bad we can't have that much fun every night," Spike said, breaking the silence between them. Wesley's tendency not to speak was getting a little old. 

"But we can," Wesley answered. He sat down on the sofa and started taking off his shoes and socks. His toes stretched over the carpet. 

Spike opened Wesley's cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey. "Might as well get pissed," he muttered, opening the bottle. He felt Wesley staring at him. "Oh what, you don't expect me to put up a polite constitution for you. Should get ourselves some lackies; at least then I could play poker or something." 

"Sorry that I'm not insane enough to provide you with entertainment," Wesley hissed. "Some of us need a bit of quiet." 

"Now that's better." Spike handed the bottle to Wesley. "Might as well get along." He moved closer to Wesley. "When are we going to kill him?" 

"Sometimes hurting Angel isn't about killing him, Spike," Wesley answered. "Killing him would eliminate the potential for pain. I thought you would've learned that by now." He drank from the bottle. "And you need to stop fighting me." 

"What's that's supposed to mean?" Spike sounded annoyed. "I have my own unlife. Not your chambermaid at your beck and call. I wasn't his, and I'm not going to be yours." 

Wesley smiled. "No. You have more potential than that." He placed his hand on Spike's lower arm. "But you're going to pay attention and do as you're told." His hand began to squeeze. "I wouldn't be opposed to getting you a leash and collar. But I don't think that you'd fancy fighting in one." 

_Collar. Leash._ The words floated through his mind. The last time, he'd played with things like that... _Best not think about that._ "Then what are you going to make me do?" Spike asked. He liked playing this game. 

"This." Wesley removed his hand from Spike's arm and undid his trousers. He pulled out his half-erect cock. 

Spike knew what was coming next. If he didn't go down on his knees right away, Wesley would simply make him. Not that going down on Wesley didn't appeal to him... There was a reason he'd drank too much from him, but he had to fight it. 

"Spike," Wesley said, his hand moving to the back of Spike's head. 

To his surprise, Wesley didn't push him forward; his fingers simply played with Spike's hair. "Sod fighting." Spike sank to his knees on the floor. Taking Wesley's length into his hand, he began to stroke. He leaned forward and licked the head, slowly with a slight swirling motion. As Spike took him into his mouth, he felt Wesley relax, and he enjoyed this control. 

Wesley slumped against the couch; Spike's cool breath surrounding him. Usually, he would guide his lovers with his hands, but Spike knew exactly what he was doing. 

He heard a small creak outside the door. Someone was coming in. Spike pulled away as Lilah Morgan walked into Wesley's apartment. "Sorry, if I'm interrupting anything," she said, her face not registering any shock at what she walked in on. "I'm Lilah Morgan." She extended her hand to Wesley. 

He didn't take it. "I know who you are. Give me one reason not to get up and snap your neck." 

"Wolfram and Hart would like to make a deal with you and your companion." Lilah held up her hand to silence him before Wesley could protest. "The Senior Partners have decided that they want Angel gone. You remove our Angel problem, and we pay you." 

"I like the sound of that," Wesley smiled, then frowned at Spike who was standing up. "Spike, aren't you supposed to be doing something?" His hand pushed Spike down. 

"Bloody humiliating," Spike muttered as he kneeled back down. 

"What did you say?" Wesley growled, grabbing Spike's hair. He caught a smirk growing on Lilah's face. He was beginning to like working with her. 

"Nothing," he said. Obediently, he took Wesley's cock back into his mouth. 

"Miss Morgan, why don't you take a seat?" Wesley gestured to the chair opposite the couch. "Just how much is Wolfram and Hart willing to pay us? I image that Spike doesn't have any money to his name, and my human self wasn't exactly a millionaire. We'll need travel expenses and perhaps, a specialized box, I'm sure you understand." 

***** 

He had spent two hours digging the bullets out of his flesh himself. He'd showered and dressed. Today, Cordelia was being released from the hospital. And the sooner she was somewhere safe, the better he'd feel. 

Sipping a mug of blood, he waited until the sun went down. He'd called a taxi to take her home. If being beaten up and humiliated wasn't enough, they had to go and steal his car. The first real thing he'd ever owned. Cordelia was always giving him a hard time about not having a financial portfolio, but he'd managed to buy that car. 

He was ready now. Ready to kill Wesley and Spike. The thought of cursing Wesley with a soul crossed his mind, only to be shoved back by what the Oracle said: Wesley's soul was in a place of resting. And wherever that place may be, it was surely better than carrying around guilt for the rest of his unlife. 

Angel stepped out into the night, a taxicab already waiting for him. Flowers in his hand for her. He watched the city pass by him. Everything looked peacefully even if it wasn't the truth. He wished that he could fly above the city; Darla had always loved her rooms with a view. 

She was waiting for him in the hospital lobby, dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt that he'd brought for her yesterday and sunglasses over the gauze. Of course, she'd been waiting for a while now, having to check out long before the sun went down. 

"Cordy," Angel said. "These are for you." He handed her the flowers. 

"I'm ready to get out of this place." She stood up and awkwardly laced her arm in Angel's. "By the way, thanks for the flowers. They smell wonderful." 

He opened the door and helped her inside the cab. Shutting the door, he gave the driver instructions to go to Cordelia's home. 

"I'm not ready to go back there," she said. She relayed new instructions to the driver. They would be going back to Angel's. 

"But it's not safe there," he protested. "After everything that's happened, do I really need to argue about your safety?" 

Cordelia frowned at him. "Willow used to call this her resolve face," she said. "Look - resolve face, I'm coming home with you. I'd feel much safer anyway. Plus my place needs a good cleaning; the blood probably stained everything." 

Angel shivered at the image of when he'd come for her - too late to save her from them. "I cleaned it." After working-out and before his encounter with Spike and Wesley, he'd gone back to her house and scrubbed the floor, walls, and whatever else he could find. "Dennis misses you." 

"I miss him too," she said. "He's much better at helping me than any of those nurses were with their cold hands." She sighed and leaned against Angel. 

Slowly, he moved his arm and placed it around her. Cautiously, as if she was going to push him away in disgust. But she didn't. "You need Dennis' help," Angel whispered. "I can't always be there to help you." He redirected the driver again, hoping that the man wasn't getting too annoyed. Cordelia didn't say anything. 

He paid the driver and escorted Cordelia to her door. Phantom Dennis had already opened it; he'd even picked up the stuff on the floor that Angel had left in his scrubbing frenzy. "Do you want me to stay?" 

Cordelia nodded. "What'd they do to you?" she asked. "I saw what they did to those humans, and I know what they did to me. But you've been off-kilter since you've picked me up." 

"Just the usual - beating me up; Wesley shot me a couple times." He escorted her to her bedroom. Dennis had laid her pajamas on the bed. "Do you need...help?" 

"I think I can manage." She smiled and patted the bed until she found the clothing. "Now turn around. And no peeking. I may not be able to see you, but I'll still know." It was no more than a ritual - changing her clothing. She could have comfortably slept in her sweats, but Angel would want to see this. To see that she was getting back to her life, despite everything. "Tell me more about what happened." 

"They stole my car," Angel sighed. "And drove me out to the desert, where they left me. Of course, they knew I'd make it back. That wasn't the point." He closed his eyes to regain his control. "I couldn't... I thought that I could kill him, but when I saw him standing there. Part of me stills sees Wesley." 

"I know." She slipped on her pajama bottoms. "But I'm glad you're here. That you're talking about this. That like you said, we're going to deal." 

"Tomorrow, I'll find them." He turned around when she touched his back signaling that she was done. "And I'm not going to hesitate this time." 

Cordelia hugged him; she felt so small in his arms. "I'm sorry that you have to do this," she said. Once again, she found herself crying. "He's really gone, isn't he?" It only stung a little, but maybe she was used to it. "I miss him, Angel." 

"So do I," Angel said. "So do I." 

***** 

"Oh Spike, by the way you're the bloody bait," Spike rambled as he walked down the deserted alleyway. "Find Angel and lead him back. Try not to get yourself fucking staked." He kicked the wall. "And suck my cock while you're at it." 

Wesley had instructed him as to where Angel made his usual patrols. How could they even count that Angel was going to be out tonight, especially after what happened last night. 'Trust me,' Wesley had assured him. 

On top of playing the bait, Wesley had arranged to work with that Lilah bitch. "Mr.-We're-Not-Animals, so let's play nice with the sodding lawyers. We need money, and you don't have any, Spike." He paused and looked around. He could feel Angel following him. 

"Too bad, I don't have some nice bird to eat. That'd make our superhero come out of the shadows." Spike paused, listening. "Big fairy stalker doesn't scare me. He probably wouldn't hurt a little fly. He'd be like 'Oh, poor little fly, let's take you to the nearest trashcan so you can eat something.' Fucking hero." Angel had been tracking him for the past block. "Fucking Wesley." 

_Time to lead the prey home_. Spike looped the block - every part of his body ready for the fight. Angel probably wanted both of them there before he started anything. "Not very smart," he muttered. 

"Where is he, Spike?" Angel came out from the dark corner and into the building. He had to do this quick, get it over with. No time for hesitation, no time for thinking. 

Followed him just like Wesley had planned. Spike smirked. "Don't know, and frankly, don't care." He turned around and faced Angel. "Was going to stake him myself, but I thought I'd let you do that." 

Angel picked up a pipe and swung it at Spike. No hesitation. Spike jumped out of the way. "That all you got." 

Angel stepped forward to swing again. Missing Spike again, Angel dropped the pipe when he felt Spike's fist make contact with his face. As Spike's leg came up to kick him, Angel grabbed it and spun Spike around. He shoved him up against the wall. "Is this good enough for you." 

"It's the only chance you're going to have," Wesley said. Before Angel could turn around, Wesley struck him with a taser; he fell to the floor. "Told you we'd find him." 

"That was a little too easy," Spike said, touching the small wound on his head from the wall. "Would have liked to go another round." He picked up the pipe that Angel had dropped and smacked Angel's back with it. "See how he likes that when he wakes up." 

Wesley watched as the men hired and paid for by Wolfram & Hart, loaded Angel in his cage and into the back of the truck. "Best hurry," Wesley instructed them. He'd stolen the design of the box from the Council; they'd used the boxes to transport vampires for the Slayer's 18th birthday test. Of course, he'd modified the design to be more effective. "The taser doesn't last that long. And he isn't going to be happy when he wakes up. I would want any casualties." 

"Can't we at least torture him a bit before leaving?" Spike asked, relishing in seeing Angel drug on the floor. 

Wesley motioned Spike over to him. His finger touched Spike's wound getting a little blood on them. He licked the blood from his finger, then kissed Spike, lingering and slowly. His lips paused for a moment as he moved the taser to Spike's stomach and shocked him. 

Spike leap back at the impact. "Bloody hell!" he yelled. "What the fuck did you do that for?" His face vamped from the pain. 

"I told you no once already," Wesley said. He signed some forms from one of the workers, not looking at Spike. "It was on low." 

"Boss," said a worker from behind the truck. "He's awakening." 

Wesley walked over to the truck. "That was quick. Make sure that those ties are tight. He isn't going to be happy." 

"Wesley," Angel growled, shaking against his chains and trying to push out of the box. "Why don't you let me out, then we can have a real fight." 

"Sorry, Angel." Wesley smiled. "We're due to get out of here in an hour. And you know how schedules are; they don't work unless you follow them." 

"Where are you taking me?" 

"Sunnydale," Wesley answered with a smile. "Going to see some old friends. I promised Spike." 

***** 

Angel had set her alarm to go off every day at noon, so Cordelia could keep track of the time and day. But she kept calling for the official time every few hours. Dennis was now her eyes, but without her sight, communicating with him was nearly impossible. 

She turned on the television for comfort, hearing someone's voice. It wasn't as fun without the pictures; at least books on tape gave descriptions of the scenery. Angel and Wesley's friendship had taken away that perpetual loneliness that she had felt when first coming to L.A. She'd actually been lucky enough to find friends - real friends, not ones that only wanted to impregnate her with evil demon spawn. 

"He's been gone two days, Dennis," she said. "I need to do something. But how are a blind woman and her ghost ever going to find him. We're not exactly the best detective team. Not to mention, I can't see anything. And that stupid cop told me that I couldn't report Angel as a missing person because he wasn't technically a person. After saving her life for free, you'd think she'd be a little grateful." 

A nurse had come by to test her eyes yesterday; nothing had changed. Angel had insisted on the best in homecare for her, despite that she knew they couldn't afford it. The nurse had acted frightened when Cordelia had tried to make friends with her. 

"Guess we're both big freaks. Dennis, where's the phone?" Cordelia's hands ran over the sofa and the coffee table. Dennis lightly nudged her with it. "My address book," she said. "Can you dial the second person on the list?" She heard the phone click on and the numbers being dialed. He handed the phone to her. "Thanks, Dennis. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"Here's to last resorts." The phone rang several times before being picked up. "Hi Giles," she said. "It's Cordelia. Something's happened."


End file.
